


Stargazer

by Unknown_Kadath



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Awesome Donna Noble, post-journey's end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 22:43:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unknown_Kadath/pseuds/Unknown_Kadath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor erased her memories, but in her heart, Donna never quite forgot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stargazer

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this in 2010, and figured I'd better get a move on and repost my old stories with cameos of author-created future Doctors BEFORE a real Twelve was cast ... or, considering my ability to procrastinate, a real Thirteenth.
> 
> Original note: Thanks as always to my lovely betas. Mornea, my philosophical beta. Tardis-Mole, my nitpicky beta (for Bowie, in particular). And TempusDominus10, my wildly enthusiastic beta/little devil on my shoulder egging me on.

**1\. Distraction**

It was Lauren's idea. She knew a bloke who knew a bloke, or something like that. Used to date her third cousin. Donna was skint broke, borrowed a bit of cash off her Gramps and arranged to meet Mr. Right at the local pub. It was an in-between sort of place, just posh enough for a Somebody and just cheap enough for a Nobody. She sat alone with a glass of wine while David Bowie played in the background. "Space Oddity."

_And I'm floating in a most peculiar way  
And the stars look very different today_

Different. When was the last time she even looked at the stars?

_Can you hear me, Major Tom?_

_Can you hear me, Major Tom?_

Even if it was a song about lost things, even though it echoed some shadow in her heart, she found it stirred an odd longing in her. Like she wanted to reach out and touch the stars, no matter what the cost.

Like she wanted something more in her life.

Well, that was why she was here. Get out, try to meet a man. Never had much luck before, but it had been nearly two years since Lance had jilted her at the altar. Get back on the horse, and all that.

So why did it all seem so futile?

He was supposed to have been here ten minutes ago. She wondered if he was coming. She saw a man across the room watching her, looking like he was thinking about coming over and talking to her. But Lauren said Desmond was blond, wore expensive clothes. This man was black, a little scruffy-looking, had a coat that had seen better days.

"Donna?"

He was tall, handsome, blond hair and brown eyes. Nice smile. Nice voice, though he said her name a little dubiously.

The man across the room turned away.

"Oh, that's me!" she said, pulling herself out of … whatever she'd been thinking about, and giving him her brightest smile. "Desmond?"

Yes, he was Desmond. He sat down and they both tried to make conversation, a little desperately and at cross-purposes. He was an up-and-coming businessman (he said), talking about cut-throat negotiations and hostile takeovers, the virtues of luxury cars and the best spots for tropical vacations. Donna tried to be more impressed than she was, tried to enjoy listening to him. She had a bit too much to drink and told him more than she'd intended about her family.

His smile, she came to notice, tended to slip into a sneer. He talked about the money he was going to make, rather than the money he was making now. His eyes could be a bit cold, and most of his stories were about people he'd got the better of.

She asked if they could meet again, and he said sure, so she suggested the same time, same place, next week. He said sure again. It wasn't until after she got home that she realized they'd never gotten each other's phone numbers.

**2\. Starlight**

Same time, same place, a week later. Five minutes after they'd arranged to meet. Well, after Donna had said they should meet.

She was getting too old for this, really. A man like Desmond probably wanted someone younger, a trophy wife. But that just meant Donna had to try harder, find a man before her looks went. She'd ask some of her other friends. Maybe try an internet dating site (again). She'd hesitated after what happened last time, but needs must when the devil drives.

Maybe Desmond would show up. He'd been fashionably late last time, hadn't he?

"Excuse me," said a voice.

Donna looked up. It was the man who'd been watching her last time. Up close, he was nobody—soft-spoken, a little sloppy, with the face of a daydreamer. There was a faint air of a life going nowhere about him, of a lack of direction.

"I've seen you in here before," he said. He sounded a little nervous. "I was thinkin'… you look like you could use some company. Mind if I buy you a drink?"

Donna was about to say no, she was waiting for somebody. He wasn't the sort she'd usually be interested in. Wasn't the sort anybody would be interested in, or spare a second look. But then she saw something in his eyes. Resigned but determined, like he knew the world was rubbish but he kept hoping anyway.

Like he kept caring anyway.

It was a quiet sort of courage, she thought, and it reminded her of someone she couldn't remember. Wide brown eyes, deeper than oceans.

"Sure," she said. She wanted to find a man with prospects, because she didn't have any of her own. This man didn't, either. But she found she  _needed_  to be with a man who cared.

His name was Shawn, and he worked at the corner store just down the street. He'd once written a third-rate poem that had been published in a fourth-rate magazine that didn't pay, and he recycled because he wanted to save the planet. When he bought their drinks, he came up short, and she had to contribute the change. He had a nice sense of humor and an easy laugh.

"I saw your hair," he said. "Just sort of caught my eye, cos of the color. And then you got this look on your face. You looked like the saddest woman in the world."

"So you felt sorry for me?" she asked, bristling.

"Well, um, y—no, but that's not why I wanted to meet you," he fumbled. "Cos at first you looked ordinary, like all you cared about was gossip and celebrities and finding a husband with money. But you wouldn't look sad like that unless you cared about something bigger than that. Something wonderful."

"Oh." She gave him a small smile that, if she had known it, was even sadder. "No. I've never even seen somethin' like that. I always feel … like I lost something. Like I can almost remember something really important. More important than anythin' else in my life."

"I always feel like there's something wonderful, just out of reach," said Shawn. "If I could just figure out how to get to it. Me mum always said I'd get nowhere with my head in the clouds. S'pose she was right."

"Nooo," said Donna. "That  _my_  mum you're talkin' about."

"Let's go see somethin'," he said. "I know this planetarium that's open til nine, free admission. Projector wobbles, but it's a good show."

Donna had caught a glimpse of blond hair and a bright (if slightly sour) smile by the door. "What?" she said, distracted. "Oh, um …"

Stars. Stars and planets and the sky. Desmond could give her a future, but she wanted more than that. Or less. She wanted galaxies. She wanted to break free of this world and walk among the stars.

"Okay," she said. Desmond hadn't seen her yet. He'd think she'd stood him up (well, she was) or that she'd got tired of waiting (done that, too, and served him right). "If we can go out the back."

They went out the back, out into the chill of the night, stars glinting through gaps in the clouds. "You know, my Gramps has got a telescope," said Donna. "Used to spend hours with him, lookin' up at the stars. Mum always said it was a huge waste of time, but I don't think I've ever been happier …"

**3\. Mud**

Their third date (the second had been pizza and a crap movie) was a protest rally against the destruction of green spaces in the city—specifically, a development that was about to be put up on the site of an old park.

The 'park' was a small, weedy lot with one straggly tree and a rusted swing-set. The 'rally' was a few of Shawn's drinking buddies and a skinny man who looked like he'd dressed in the dark in a thrift shop, and turned out to be Shawn's autistic cousin Larry.

The developers were late, and it was cold. Donna had worn heels and her best 'little black dress.' It was absolutely freezing. There was some talk about getting hot chocolate, which ran aground on the question of how they were going to pay for it. Donna attempted to make conversation with Larry. It took him at least half a minute to respond to anything she said—not because he was stupid, she discovered, but because he suffered a minor anxiety attack whenever another human being spoke to him.

"I like trees better than people," he mumbled. "They don't  _look_  at you."

After two hours, a man with a small, rusty backhoe appeared and told the 'rally' to clear out or he'd call the police. Half of Shawn's drinking buddies slunk away.

Twenty minutes and some harsh words later, the police arrived. The rest of the drinking buddies vanished.

"I should tell you," Donna told Shawn, "I really am one of those women what just cares about gossip and celebrities an' husbands."

"F-for the p-planet!" cried Larry.

"For the planet!" echoed Shawn, grabbing Donna's hand. "Come on!"

Oh, what the hell. "FOR THE PLANET!" bellowed Donna, startling the backhoe operator so badly that he spilled his coffee all over his trousers.

The three of them ran forward (Donna hobbling in her heels) and threw themselves down on the ground between the little tree (which, Larry had informed them, appeared to be a cherry of some sort—genus  _Prunus_ ) and the backhoe.

The police hauled them out of the way. Things were looking a little grim, and Donna had started to wonder what her mother would say about having to bail her daughter out of jail. Then the backhoe operator came over.

"Look, just let it go," he said. "I can't do anything until the tree-remover gets done, and he's just called, said he can't make it. So I'm clearing off home for the day."

"Do you mean to tell me," said Donna, "that I went and ruined my favorite dress FOR NOTHING?"

The backhoe operator fled.

The police let the three of them off with a stern warning and the name of a local clinic for alcohol abuse.

**4\. Dust**

"Sorry," said Shawn.

The three of them were walking home. Donna looked at Shawn. He had mud spattered all over his face. She started laughing a second before he did.

"I ain't never had that much fun in my life!" she yelled.

"No, but … it's stupid, really," said Shawn, a few yards later, going serious again. "I mean, we act like we're doing something, but it's nothing. It was always nothing."

"More'n most people do, then," said Donna. "Like sittin' at home in front of the telly's more productive. An' we did do somethin'. We walked in the dust."

"Mud," corrected Larry.

"Rain plus dust equals mud," said Donna. "Stardust. That's how the Earth was formed, you know. Old friend said that to me …"

"That is true," said Larry, and he smiled. It was the first time Donna had seen him have a facial expression.

"Walkin' in the stardust," mused Shawn. "I like it. Who said that?"

"I don't … I don't know," said Donna. She'd already forgotten what they were talking about, but it left her with a triumphant feeling that lasted the rest of the day.

They walked on, making facetious plans to save the whales by tying themselves to harpoons while Larry expounded on the virtues of the noble cherry.

**5\. Nobody**

"Oh, Donna, what were you thinking?" sighed Sylvia. There was an edge of exasperation in her voice that grated on Donna's nerves. Mostly because she wondered if her mum was right.

She gritted her teeth, set her hands on her hips, and launched her counterattack. "Well, for starters, I was thinkin' he's a nice bloke. Not like Lance. Actually cares about somethin' besides himself. And he loves me."

She'd finally taken the plunge and brought Shawn round for dinner. It had gone about as she'd expected.

"He's a dreamer, is what he is," said Sylvia. "You think love is enough? Love doesn't pay the bills, lady. He's got a dead-end job, no ambition, no prospects."

"What, so he's too much like me?" retorted Donna.

Sylvia's eyes widened, and she actually took a step back. "What? No, I—you're a bright girl, Donna, you could go back to school, you could …"

"Yeah. Sure. But I could do that with Shawn, too. Face it, Mum, it ain't happening. I'm as much a nobody as he is."

"No, you aren't," snapped Sylvia. "Stop saying that. You could find someone better."

"Oh, that makes a change," said Donna. "Since when did you think I could get anythin' right?"

Sylvia flinched, as if she'd been slapped. "I just don't want you throwing your future away on somebody who can't give you a better life."

Part of Donna thought that maybe her mother was right. She should be careful, should be practical, shouldn't give away her heart to somebody who could give her nothing more in return than his own heart. She should be afraid of making a mistake.

But there was something else, buried deep within her, that told her she was better than that. Always had been. That she had the courage to give her heart away.

"He did give me a better life," she told her mother. "He gave me the stars."

Sylvia looked even more startled at that pronouncement, and a little afraid. She was looking at Donna like she'd never seen her daughter before.

"I'll … I have to … you do what you want, then," she stammered. "I just hope it works out."

She turned and walked rapidly away into the house.

"Good on you," said a voice from behind Donna. She turned to see her Gramps standing in the doorway. For some reason, he seemed to be crying. "Good on you. You tell 'er. An' don't you ever stop dreamin', don't you dare."

He reached out to her, and she hugged him, thinking of nights when she looked at the stars until she felt like she was about to fall off the Earth and float away to join them.

**6\. Angel**

It was a small wedding, not like last time. They wanted to save money. There weren't many guests, either—Shawn had a small family, and most of them felt about Donna the way Sylvia had felt about Shawn. Only Larry seemed to like her.

"She's nice," he explained. "And she talks all the time, so I don't have to."

She hadn't known Shawn any longer than she'd known Lance when they decided to get married. Other than that, there was no comparison. She'd dropped the word 'marriage' casually in conversation, and he'd said, "Do you want to?"

"Meh," she said, pretending not to care. "Wouldn't say no."

"Cos I was saving up for a ring. Just a little diamond, but I figure in two more weeks—don't want to put it on the credit card, you know—"

"Oh, why wait! I've got a bit saved up, you can pay me back in two weeks." She didn't really have it saved up, but what the hell—in for a penny, in for a pound.

He'd departed immediately, returned in half an hour with a dozen roses and a little velvet box, and got down on one knee.

" _Oh!_ " screamed Donna, as if she was surprised.

"Donna Noble, will you marry me?" asked Shawn.

It took closer to three weeks for him to pay her back, because of the roses, and Donna missed a very good shoe sale as a result, but she didn't much mind.

She still sometimes wondered if her mother was right. You really couldn't live off of love, and the bills were piling up, and the wedding presents this time round were worth squat (a lottery ticket, like  _that_  was useful). But … without love, what did you have to live  _for_?

"I'm lucky to have you," she told Shawn as they danced at the reception.

"I'm the lucky one," he replied.

"Why?" she asked. "Why do you say that?"

He was silent for a long moment. "There's something about you, Donna," he said at last. "It's like … like you have a bit of stardust in you. Like you got lost from the sky and stranded here on Earth."

"You talk like I was some sorta angel," she scoffed, gently.

"Sometimes," he said, and he didn't seem to be joking at all. "Like you came from a better place, and part of you is still back there."

Maybe someone from that better place was looking after her. Like a guardian angel. The next day, she found out the lottery ticket had hit the jackpot.

**7\. Nobody**

He showed up unannounced at the office of the Starlight Foundation, a young man with old eyes and long hair. He dressed like Shawn's autistic cousin Larry, like he couldn't figure out which decade he was in but was dead set on being out of fashion regardless. Nobody wore bow ties anymore, did they? And the tweed. And the boots.

"No, that is simply not acceptable," barked Donna into the phone. "How would you like to wait a month for your next meal because some dumbo couldn't get their schedule straight? Well maybe it don't help, but staying calm ain't doin' me any good, neither! Now you listen here, you signed a contract, and if you don't come through my lawyers are gonna—well, isn't that nice? You can? Oh, good. I'll expect it promptly. Pleasure doing business with you."

She hung up and turned to the weirdo, who was grinning at her. "Donna Noble!" he exclaimed. "Helping the helpless and taking no nonsense!"

"I've had enough nonsense in my life, thanks," she said. "And we don't help the helpless—we help people help themselves." She decided to be polite. Never knew, he might be a wealthy eccentric thinking of making a donation. "May I help you, er, didn't catch your name?"

"Oh, I'm nobody," said the man. "No, nobody at all, never here, really. And if anyone asks you where you got these …" He handed her a small paper packet. "Well, just say it was an anonymous source. Like that legendary lottery ticket that started it all, eh?"

"But … but I don't even know who you are," she protested.

"That's it!" he said, shaking her hand vigorously and bounding away towards the door. "That's it exactly!"

Donna opened the packet. Seeds. She didn't know anything about seeds. She'd give them to Larry, he'd figure it out.

The phone rang again. "Hello," she answered. "Starlight Foundation: 'Reach for the stars—that way if you miss, you'll still reach the sky.' How may I help you?"

She was so busy that she'd forgotten all about the seeds by the time Larry figured out what they were. The lottery money hadn't gone as far as she and Shawn had expected when they set up the Starlight Foundation three years ago to promote sustainable development in the third world, and they ended up doing much of the administration themselves. And with the baby … well, things were a bit hectic.

The seeds turned out to be from a previously unknown variety of rice which was more productive than the current best variety. In ten years, it was being grown around the world, helping to ease the global food crisis.

**8\. Doctor**

"Argh, all right, all right!" said Fred. "Lay off, Mum!"

He escaped from Donna's embrace just in time to be grabbed by Shawn. "I knew you could do it!"

"Doctor Wilfred Lee Temple-Noble," sighed Donna, with a dreamy smile. "Oh, if Gramps could see this …"

"I haven't graduated yet," protested Fred. "Just got accepted."

When Fred was a boy, his teachers had despaired of him. Some said he was just a dreamer, and some said it was ADD … but with a bit of help, he'd struggled through. His parents had never given up on him. They'd never pressured him into anything, but they supported anything he wanted to do.

"Look at us," said Donna. "I was just a temp from Chiswick, an' your dad worked in a convenience store. An' last year, the Starlight Foundation funded a program that helped vaccinate ten million people against AIDS."

Jenny-Rose seized her chance and threw her arms around her older brother as soon as Shawn released him. "It's not fair," she told him, jokingly. "You're making me look bad. Here you are, swanning off to medical school, and I can't even decide on a subject."

"Well, what do you want to do?" asked Fred.

"Well, if I want to top you …" She gave him a wicked smile. "Maybe I'll be an astronaut."

**9\. Forgetful**

Shawn sat by Donna's bed in the hospital and held her hand. He'd gotten a bit thinner, become a wiry old man with steel-colored hair. Donna had put on weight and died her hair stubbornly until she could no longer even do that, and her husband (who had often told her he was sure she'd be beautiful gray) took over the job. It was what she would have wanted.

"Gran?" said Little Donna. What Fred had been thinking Shawn didn't know. The poor girl was going to be Little Donna for the rest of her life.

Then again, better than Sylvia.

"Hm?" said Donna, looking at the little girl. "Oh, hello there! Oh, you're ginger. I always wanted to be ginger. I bet it's brilliant, eh?  _Molto bene_!"

"Mum, it's Fred and Donna," said Fred gently.

"Donna!" exclaimed Donna, struggling to sit up. Her eyes went wide with delight. "Donna Noble? Noooo! Wait! Yes! No! Can't be! Oooh, that's brilliant, that is. You're brilliant. You're gonna be a temp, but that's just temporary—oh, a temporary temp, that's good, that is. But it's brilliant, cos then you're gonna save the world and travel to the stars. But then …" Her eyes went sad. "You'll forget, you know."

"Gran?" said Little Donna again.

"She's off again," said Shawn. "Been going on about giant alien wasps all day. She thinks you're her, sweetheart. Her when she was a little girl."

"But it all works out," Donna went on, grinning manically again. "Cos you marry a man named Shawn and win the lottery, and you have two lovely children, and grandchildren. And you never would've had that with me. And you get to keep on saving the world …"

"Excuse me," said a voice from the doorway. Shawn looked up to see a dark-haired man, graying at the temples, wearing a white suit and wingtips. He had a gold tie and a silver waistcoat and he carried a white walking stick in his white-gloved hands. He looked like he'd gotten lost on his way to a fancy-dress ball.

His face was young, but his eyes were old, pale green and kind.

"Is this Donna Noble's room?" he asked.

"Temple-Noble," corrected Fred. "Can we help you?"

"No," said the stranger, with a sad little smile. "I'd ask if I could help you, but I know I can't. I'm the Doctor, by the way."

"Doctor!" shouted Donna, laughing. "You've regenerated!"

"Quite," said the Doctor.

"Doctor who?" asked Fred.

"Just a visiting specialist," said the Doctor. "I'd heard Mrs. Temple-Noble was a patient here, and I thought I'd stop by. She's … one of my personal heroes, you know. And an old friend."

"I don't remember you," said Shawn.

"Before your time."

"That was a long time ago."

"I was very young then."

"He was nine hundred years old," confided Donna, nonsensically. "And he traveled in time."

"As you say," said the stranger.

"Ironic, you know," said Shawn. "She funded programs to fight all the old diseases. And then she goes and gets a brain disorder nobody's ever seen before."

"Not ironic," said the Doctor. "Not ironic at all."

"Only sixty-five. I always thought we'd have more time …" said Shawn.

"Don't we all," said the Doctor. He looked terribly sad, as if Donna were his family, instead of theirs.

"No, but … it isn't your fault," said Donna. She sounded strangely lucid, even if the words didn't make sense to Shawn. "You gave me a good life. Fantastic, even."

" _Molto bene,_ " said the strange Doctor, and Shawn and Fred's heads snapped around as Donna grinned. "Not I, Donna Noble. You did it all by yourself."

"It doesn't burn," she told him. "It burned, before. You said it would burn."

"The memories are too fragmented. It's a side effect of the brain damage. Now,  _that's_  ironic, I suppose."

"Not long," muttered Donna. She sank back into the pillows, drained. "But I'm glad, Doctor. Glad I met you. Worth it."

The stranger took Donna's hand and raised it to his lips. "It was my pleasure."

Donna closed her eyes, muttering something about lottery tickets and seeds and diamond planets.

"Gentlemen," said the Doctor. "Young lady. An honor to meet you. I shall take my leave of you now."

"Wait a minute," said Fred. "Who are you?"

"And where are you going?" called Shawn.

"As I said, I'm the Doctor," said the strange man as he passed out the door. "And I'm going … to walk in the dust."

"Who was that, Gramps?" asked Little Donna.

"A wandering lunatic, most likely," muttered Fred. He sounded a little like his grandmother. "I've half a mind to call security."

"No," said Shawn. "He was a friend of Donna's."

"No way of telling, is there?" said Fred. "We can hardly ask her."

"Son … many years ago, someone sent us some very special seeds. And a few years before that, someone sent us a lottery ticket. And before that, someone taught your mother to walk in the dust, because it's all stardust."

"I liked the stars," muttered Donna. "Let's go back and do it again.  _Allons-y_!"

It was the last thing she ever said. That night, she lapsed into a coma, and slipped away before dawn.

No one ever found out who the strange Doctor was, or when Donna Temple-Noble had started speaking French.

**10\. Again**

Donna Temple-Noble laid the flowers on her grandparents' grave and stepped back, huddling deeper into her coat. "Well, Gramps, there you are," she sniffed. "Together again."

A fresh engraving on the stone read, "Shawn Temple-Noble, Beloved husband and father. He made his dreams come true."

"Have I missed the funeral?" said a voice behind her.

Donna spun around. There was a strange man there, very young, with a wild mane of red hair. He was dressed all in black—black jeans, black boots, black dress-shirt, long black velvet jacket, and a black tie patterned with little silver question marks. It was an odd outfit to wear to a funeral.

It was an odd outfit, period.

"Er—Shawn Temple-Noble's funeral?" asked Donna.

"Yeah—have I missed it?"

"That was two weeks ago!"

"Oh. Not off by that much, then," said the stranger. Donna wondered what he would consider 'much.'

"Sorry, friend. Guess you got all dressed up for nothing," she said.

"Dressed up?" asked the stranger, looking baffled.

"Um, sorry," said Donna, "but do I know you?"

She didn't, she knew. It was just a polite way of asking who on Earth he was.

"Yeah, course ya do! I'm the Doctor, remember?" said the stranger, grinning. Then his grin faded. "Oh. Well, you wouldn't remember. I was older then. Older and not ginger. Wish your Gran could see. Lucky Thirteen!"

"You knew Gran?" asked Donna, disbelieving. "She died when I was a girl. And you're younger than I am." He looked to be about twenty.

"I very much doubt that," said the stranger, and shrugged. "So. Little Donna, was it?"

"Doctor Donna," she corrected.

The stranger's mouth made a silent 'O' of amazement. "That's … that's …  _molto bene_ , I guess your Gran would say."

Donna frowned. That tickled her memory, somehow.

"So … Doctor Donna. What's your specialty?"

"I generalize," she explained. "I'm with the space program. They need a jack of all trades up there." She indicated the sky.

"An astronaut?" The stranger's eyes bulged. "Really? Get that from your Gran, I suppose."

"Aunt Jenny, really," said Donna, wondering why she was telling him all this. He looked like an absolute nutter. "She always wanted to be an astronaut. Never made it into the program, ended up taking over the Starlight Foundation instead. But she never forgot. She had this old telescope, you see …"

"Ah," said the stranger, as if that explained everything.

They stood there in silence for a while. The stranger broke it. "Well, must be off. I've got a thing, you see. Well, four things. Well, four things and a lizard. Perhaps I'll see you around."

"Not for a while." Donna pointed at the sky again. "I'm leaving in two days. Five year mission, you know—having another crack at the Red Planet."

"I'll come visit you there, then!" laughed the stranger, walking away.

Donna smiled despite herself, shaking her head. She turned back to the grave one last time, brushing her fingers against the stone. "Bet you did know him, Gran," she said. "Somehow."

Above Shawn's name was an older engraving. "Donna Temple-Noble. She aimed for the stars. And she reached them."

**End**


End file.
